


Three's A Crowd

by WennyT



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: ((I'm kidding eonnie islu)), ((sort of)), Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, BUT THEN EONNIE FUCKING BROUGHT THEM BACK, Companion Piece, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, F/M, Fic Exchange, Future Fic, Gen, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, I got over my Eason feels after a week and a day, I need to stop having major feels when one of my friends write, M/M, MAJOR ANGST ALERT, Not Happy, OTP Feels, One Shot, Sorry Not Sorry, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, first it was haley then the maknae then now eonnie, in a non-sexy and angsty way, ménage à trois, so this is my revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 04:10:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1290814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/pseuds/WennyT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Just know that before you go / I was the only man that loved you.</i> There is room for just two in a marriage. Companion piece to Mouldsee's Father to Son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three's A Crowd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mouldsee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouldsee/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Father to Son](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132690) by [Mouldsee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouldsee/pseuds/Mouldsee). 



> Blame my eonnie. Should be read while listening to the song 兄妹 (lit. "Brother and Sister" or "Siblings") by Eason Chan 陳奕迅.

 

In all honesty, she had never expected Yunho to pick her.

 

Changmin was there for him in a way she was not. When he was sick, he would tell her not to worry—and turn around to ring Changmin to ask the other for help. When he was hurt, he would smile at her and fob off her concerns— and text Changmin to come around to pick him up for the hospital. When he was hungry, he would shake his head when she volunteered to cook—and pull out a container of leftovers Changmin had stuck into his fridge sometime ago.

 

She knew Changmin did not like her. She knew he thought she was not good enough for Yunho; that she did not do enough for Yunho, and that was why Yunho always turned to him for help. She knew, and he knew that she knew, but he was unfailingly polite to her every single time they meet, anyway. So she treated him with the same paper-thin civility he offered her, and wished for all Yunho’s assurances she was enough for him, that she was enough for Changmin, too.

 

Sometimes she wanted to slap Yunho, and slap herself, whenever Yunho brought up Changmin of his own volition. _Wake up,_ she wanted to scream, _wake up, don’t you realize? Do you know how you look when you talk about him? Do you see yourself when you think of him? You love him more than you ever love me, so why are you with me_?

 

But she was a coward, and she loved him too much, so she did not say anything, and she did not do anything. Nevertheless, she did not expect the relationship to last as it did.

 

It came as a true surprise to her when Yunho suddenly stood up from the sofa, one night when they were in her flat, watching the new Jeon Ji Hyeon film, and got down on his knees.

 

“What are you doing? What is this?” She had asked, trying to get up, but he placed his hands, broad and comfortable and reliable, over her knees, and shook his head.

 

“Marry me,” he had asked, and she had agreed, out of a loss of knowing what to say, than anything else. The first person he had informed was, of course, Changmin.

 

She would never forget the look on Changmin’s face, lips pressed, almost emotionless, with eyes like burning coals set in ashen skin, as Yunho shared their happy news.

 

That was the first time Changmin had looked at her with undisguised hatred.

 

The months following his proposal passed in a daze, and she was vaguely aware of planning the wedding with Yunho—but more often than not, he deferred in the actual decision making to Changmin.

 

“I can’t decide whether to use sunflowers or lilies, maybe we should ask Changmin,” he would go.

 

“Should we have Chilean or French wine? I don’t know which one is better, give me a bit, I’ll ring Changmin and ask,” was his reply, when she finally narrowed down the choice of alcohol during the reception to two.

 

And of course, his best man was to be Changmin.

 

She allowed it though, his insistence to involve Changmin in the planning of the wedding. She told herself that it was only natural, because Yunho was used to conferring with Changmin before making decisions, and Changmin had impeccable taste, after all, so it was a win-win situation, for her, and for Yunho.

 

It still hurt, though, whenever Yunho greeted her suggestions (it was to be _her_ wedding, too) with a considering, “let’s run that by Changminnie first.”

 

There were moments when she wanted to, oh how she wanted to break a few things over his head, and shout, “if you want Changmin to be so involved, go marry Changmin then.”

 

But she loved him, and she wanted this dream, so she never said anything.

 

It went on, this clumsy waltz of three, faltering at times but never outright halting, until the night before her –their— wedding.

 

She spent it away from her flat, and away from Yunho’s flat too, electing to stay instead in the honeymoon suite that was prepared for them by the hotel they were holding their wedding banquet at the next day. It was to be a quiet night, just her, with her bridal party and stylists staying a floor below.

 

But there were knocks on her door well after midnight, and she rose from the ornate chaise longue, where she was lying, still awake and texting Yunho. Padding over to the door, she pulled it open, expecting a bridesmaid –or two— but finding someone she did not quite expect, instead.

 

“Hello,” said Changmin, with the overly careful pronunciation of the very drunk. “Hyung-soo-nim.”

 

She forced herself to smile, even as her hand tightened on the door hander. “Shouldn’t you be calling me jesoo-ssi, instead, Changmin?”

 

He considered her from beneath heavily-lidded eyes. “You are hyung’s woman,” was all the explanation he offered.

 

He gestured into the suite, nearly overbalancing with the overly large sweep of his arm. “May I come in?”

 

She could not think of an excuse to deny him. “Yes,” she said.  “Come in.”

 

They seated themselves, on adjacent sofas. Changmin levelled her with an unreadable look. “Congratulations,” he uttered, after a few uncomfortable moments. “You’re getting married tomorrow.”

 

“I am getting married tomorrow,” she agreed, lacing her hands together, on her lap.

 

He gazed at her for a while more, suddenly breaking into a strained smile. “Don’t worry,” he drawled, leaning back against the cushions. “I’m not here to do anything nefarious, like killing you and dumping your body in the Han River, or anything. Don’t look so tense.”

 

“And if you were, you would hardly be telling me,” she retorted, clapping her hands over her mouth when she realized what she had let loose.

 

He erupted into laughter then, long and loud and absolutely mirthless. “So the kitten has claws, after all,” he mused, wiping at his eyes to clear them of tears of apparent hilarity. “I had wondered.”

 

She sucked in a deep breath, and another. “Why are you here?”

 

His laughter took a turn for mockery. “Why, I can’t be here to visit my favourite hyung-soo-nim? Give her my well wishes for her wedding tomorrow?”

 

“You don’t like me,” she struggled to keep her voice level. Why was he here? Why now? “We both know that. So why are you here?”

 

Changmin clearly did not expect her to cut straight to the issue, and fell silent, expression unreadable. She waited, and when he did not offer anything, stood up. “If you don’t have anything to say, I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave. I have to sleep soon, I need to wake up at five for my make-up—“

 

“You know he is only marrying you for the sake of children, right?” He cut across her words abruptly. “You know that, don’t you?”

 

“Yes.” She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes dead on. “I also know you love him.”

 

A spasm of rage unfurled across his face, as he stood up, the better to tower over her. There was something feral and fragile in his face, and she felt like an intruder, even as she reminded herself that he was the one who came to her, who initiated this conversation.

 

“I know you hate me. I know you think I took what was rightfully yours.” She continued. “I know you think you know him longer, understand him better, love him more. But _I_ ’m the one he chose.”

 

His reply came in a vicious whisper. “He only chose you because _you_ have a functional uterus.”

 

“I know.” She hardened her voice. “I also know he loves you, even if he isn’t aware of it himself. But he chose me of his own will. He. Chose. _Me_.”

 

Changmin’s mouth stretched out in a parody of a grin, teeth white and gleaming like a predator. “How does it feel then, knowing that you were chosen because of your ability to pop out some children, nothing more? How does it feel, knowing that you’ll never be first priority to him; that you’re second best? How does it feel knowing that I will always be the one he relies on the most?”

 

The hurt was an old friend, the question a familiar refrain she had asked herself countless times before. She straightened, taking deliberate steps over to the door. “You are drunk. Go home and sleep it off, Yunho needs you for tomorrow.”

 

He let out a breath and regained some of his composure, staring at her with some of his habitual icy hauteur. “Even when I insult you like this— even so, you are still determined to marry him, aren’t you?”

 

“I did not force him to propose.” She stared ahead, mindful of him walking towards her. “I did not force him. He proposed of his own volition.”

 

“Yes, he did, didn’t he,” Changmin murmured tonelessly. “He did.”

 

“I love him enough for both of us,” she pulled the door to the suite open, insides quaking belatedly at the thought of the conversation that just took place. “That is enough for me.”

 

There was something broken and hopeless in Changmin’s face that she could not bear to look at. Something wounded and private, and it occurred to her how easily it could have been her, it could have been her in his place instead, and how easily Yunho could have chosen _him_. And she doubted that she would take the news so calmly in comparison, that the person she loved was marrying another.

 

The realization sent an unexpected pulse of pity through her, even as she understood that this was his desperate last bid.

 

“Go home,” she repeated, voice gentling. “I will see you tomorrow.”

 

“Ah, yes,” Changmin looked placid, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him. “My exalted duties as best man in mere hours. How can I forget?”

 

“Go home.” The words echoed from her; a broken record. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

 

He dipped into a shallow bow, eyes never leaving hers. “No, you’re not,” and straightening, he went on, unsmiling. “Don’t worry. If I were you, I wouldn’t be, either.”

 

The door shut behind him, and she stood there, until her stylists rapped on her door, with her gown and the tools of their trade in hand.

 

The wedding went off without a hitch, Changmin a stoic, dignified presence next to Yunho.

 

She pretended to ignore the glance Yunho shot Changmin when the priest requested for dissenters to their marriage to speak then or forever hold their peace. She pretended not to notice how Yunho’s grip upon her gloved hand was courteously slack, instead of being possessively tight. And she pretended not to notice, when Changmin stood to make his best man speech, the painfully affectionate look upon Yunho’s face.

 

When they were greeting the guests and sending them off with handshakes and hugs, she pretended not to notice how tightly they held onto each other’s hands, in a clasp slightly longer than was usual, before bowing to each other deeply, bodies at the exact perpendicular angle to the ground.

 

Changmin released Yunho first, turning to her to offer a perfunctorily civil hug, arms enfolding her back in a quick hold-and-release movement. His breath was uncomfortably warm next to her ear. “Congratulations.”

 

She pulled back as he let go, shaping the corners of her mouth into a smile. “Thank you.” She could not find it in herself to say more.

 

He nodded at her once, and turned to go, with nary a glance at Yunho.

 

Everything was all right. Everything would be all right. It was enough that she loved Yunho. It was enough that he chose her. It was enough.

 

Besides, they had the rest of their lives ahead of them. Who was to say Yunho would not learn to love her back, the way she did him, now?

 

 


End file.
